Wanderlust
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: Jackson has wanderlust, always travelling...and Melissa, well she just wishes he would stay.


"Last stop! Malibu!"

The remaining passengers file toward the open doors of the bus, inclining their heads toward the driver in gratitude. He waits until the last person is standing before joining the line, tipping his head as a show of respect as the others had done before jogging down the steps. His instinct is to look for her but he knows he won't find her, not here. She hadn't been here eight months ago, why now? It's his own fault, a fact he willingly admits. He never calls her anymore, only showing up when his wanderlust is quelled long enough to stay a few days, and refuses to stay in one place for one long. She's expressed frustration over this several times in the past but he never listens; slips out in the middle of the night, leaves a note on the pillow of the guest bed and disappears for a few months.

He takes a taxi to her place, suitcase and backpack stuffed in the backseat with him.

Her quaint little house is tucked at the end of a cul-de-sac, all red brick and heavy oak. It's a good reflection of her; cozy with rich colors and a warm, homey feel. Sweet, always familiar, and smells of roses. He pays the cab fare and tugs his suitcase up to her front door, knocking on the door in a subconscious rhythm. She answers the door in record time, with a carton of Chinese food and chopsticks in hand. Her eyes widen in shock as she opens the door wider to let him in. "Jackson."

"Hey Mel." he offers a curt wave.

The emotions play in her eyes - confusion, disbelief, and a vast array of others but he has no chance to decipher them before she's inviting him in. "I have a ton of food."

She points him toward the living room and disappears into the kitchen to grab him a beer. Why the hell he was there, she didn't know. It certainly wasn't to stay, in fact, she doubted that would ever be the case. Cody Jackson defines wanderlust, not having stayed in Malibu for more than two days at a time, in the last few years since graduating college. He only visits her on the rare occasion he's in town, or a busride away. It toys with her and some days, she doesn't know for the life of her why she doesn't make his sorry ass get a hotel room but she's always had a soft spot for him and she never can quite find it in herself to kick him out.

"What are you doing here?"

Never beats around the bush, his Melissa. Well, no. He can't call her his Melissa because she isn't his. She hasn't been for quite some time. She's his best friend and at one time she had been the love of his life, but he had run far away before that could go anywhere. He knows that his feelings for her never really went away; he just hides them out of fear. He takes the beer from her and twists the cap off, taking a long drag of the alcohol before answering her question - very, very carefully.

"I was in the area." he sets the bottle down on her coffee table and picks up a carton of Kung Pao chicken.

"Of course." she sighs settling back into the couch with her own food.

"Two?"

"Three."

"You know it's the one with the Angel trap, right?" Jackson's amusement dances clear in his eyes.

She mumbles something obscene and digs out a bite of broccoli, drowning in soy sauce. The conversation halts as the food is consumed and Saw III plays out before them. He won't stay through the night, they both know that. He'll be gone before daybreak, but it's nice to have him for the few hours that she does. "I'm not staying," he leans forward, arms on his knees and stares at her cream carpet. "I can't."

"Why?"

"You know why." he sighs, raking a weary hand through his hair.

"Because nobody in your life has ever stayed?" Ouch. That hurts, but the truth always did. Her carton of food is deposited on the coffee table and on the screen, Allison Kerry is falling victim to the angel trap. He sees the tell-tale glitter of tears and knows, she's going to rip into him. "Because you were born with the soul of a wandering gypsy? Staying in one place means planting roots and growing attached to something and you just can't do that, can you?" he hangs his head, ashamed at how much his leaving hurts her, even though it's never quite enough to stop him. "You can't, or you _won't?_"

"Mel - " he tries to interrupt, to stop her before she can tear too far, cause more pain but it's futile.

"Hate me, if you want." Melissa shrugs indifferently, but she cares. Far more than she'd ever admit too. "But, maybe, you hate the fact that I'm right."

"I don't hate you." it's his version of the truth - he doesn't hate her, still unsure what he feels for her. "But, you're wrong."

"Then, you tell me," she pins him with a glare that could kill a man twice his size, and at five foot, eleven inches, he's not a small man. "Why do you leave all the time?"

He closes his eyes and sinks his hands in his hair before standing up from her couch. He can't face her, not now. Not when he doesn't have an answer. Why does he leave? What is more important to him than having a home and a family and some place that is steady and comfortable? "I don't know, Mel." he offers. "I don't know why I leave."

"Then go," it's Melissa's turn to stand up and she does so with a ferocity that surprises him. "Do whatever it is you do when you leave here. Maybe, I'll be here when you get back."

"Don't be like that." he pleads, eyes widening considerably and his entire body trembles in a fit of blind panic.

"Like what?" The innocence card has always worked just a little too well for her, but this time it's not just a card she plays when she needs it. She honest-to-God cannot figure out what keeps her tied to him, when he's taking a mile from every inch she gives him. "You don't stay," she shrugs, again. "Why should I?"

"Because I need you."

Wrong answer. He knows it, as soon as the words leave his mouth. She doesn't care what his reasons are, doesn't care that he still sees her as his best friend, even though he hasn't been hers for a long time. "You need me? How? You're only here when it's convenient for you."

"Melissa!"

"I'm tired of it." she croaks, tears stinging her brown eyes.

"I know."

"Obviously not," Melissa crosses her arms over her chest, "But, it doesn't matter. I'm not playing this game again."

"It's not a game, Mel." the blind panic is returning. "My life's not a game."

"It's a game." Melissa shakes her head, her voice hoarse and unsure. "It's a game as long as you only come in that door when it suits you."

"I can't stay, Melissa." he rasps, looking down at the petite woman. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Why?" she growls, glaring up at him. She's tired of hiding how angry she is at him. She wants him to know how much he hurts her when he does this. When he pulls this gypsy act, he's gotten so good at. "Give me one good reason why and I'll let you go. I'll let you walk out of that door and you don't have to worry about me again."

"Because this - whatever this is, will never work." his heart hammers a heavy tattoo against his rib-cage and he's shocked by his own brutal honesty. "You love me but I always run away. It's how we work and I'm not likely to change. I was born with this need to run."

"Were you?"

The doubt, he sees in her eyes, the need to believe him, brings tears to his eyes. "Every one I've ever known has run away."

"Except for me." she points out timidly.

"What if I hurt you?"

He's never told her this, maybe never will, but hurting her has always been the one thing that holds him back. He doesn't want to hurt the best friend he's ever had but this game he plays with her, it's worse than anything he could ever do in an actual relationship. "You already do, Jacks. Everytime, you leave."

"I don't mean too." he sniffles miserably.

"I know." she nods, wiping her eyes. "I know you have to go."

"I'm stuck, sweetheart." he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into him. "Travelling with your ghost, with what I see or hear that reminds me of you. I don't just want you, I _need _you. Maybe, tomorrow will be better. I'll call you."

"Don't." she warns, even as her arms wrap around his waist and she tucks her face into his neck.

"Mel, you're the only reason I have for coming back." he clutches her to him; reminiscent of a little boy clinging to the one thing that makes him feel safe.

She squeezes him, unable to keep her affection for him at bay. A gentle hand cups his head as she leans up to kiss his cheek and pulls away to whisper in his ear. "When you can find a reason to stay here with me, then you know where I'll be."

...

"I found my reason to stay."

"Six months later?" her eyebrows dart skyward. "Really?"

"I always leave because I think I suck at relationships. Of any kind." he drops his backpack beside his suitcase. "But, you're the one thing that works. My life, these past few months, it just didn't work the same way. I heard you in every song, saw you everywhere." he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks around, laughing slightly at his own nervousness. "I was stuck. Colder weather, y'know, always thinking tomorrow will be better, warmer. But, it never was. My life sucked. I tried to call you but I always hung up before you answered. I was a coward, I know that now. It took me six months to realize that you are my life."

"You look cold." it's barely below seventy degrees but at one in the morning, she doesn't know what else to say. "Come in, stay a while."

She makes him the first real dinner he's had in months and he unpacks. She learns to trust him and he says 'I love you' everyday, makes it a habit. She finally says it back and he gives her a ring, a promise to stay right where he is. She orders flowers and a cake and tries on dresses and he gets fitted for a tuxedo. She walks down the aisle and he's waiting at the end of it. She vows to always be there for him, despite the rough patches they've had over the years. He vows not to leave her again, to always be there, and it makes her cry, knowing that he means it this time.

She grounds him and he sets her free.

* * *

**Inspired HEAVILY by Colder Weather by the Zac Brown band. Just a little note and for future reference - the Saw references are really more for my best friend, who likes those movies, so I figure I'd throw in a little shout out to her. Love you, A! **


End file.
